Regrets
by Steel
Summary: Another short one.
1. Default Chapter

Don't ask. I have no idea where it came from either.

The usual applies; I own no one or nothing pertaining to this story.

**Regrets**

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As I sit here in my prison cell, I wonder what I could have done differently.  What I could have changed, what I would have changed if I'd only known.  The guards have come for me now.  In just a matter of minutes, it will all be over.

"Lets go Starling.  It's time."

~Sometime earlier~

Special Agent Starling had managed to un-wedge her hair from the refrigerator.  Scrambling out the back door, desperately seeking a glimpse of her adversary.  

That's where it all started.  

As she came around the corner of the house she saw a uniformed Officer leveling his weapon toward the woods.  

"Police, Freeze." She heard him say.  She looked in the direction that he was pointing his weapon and saw the object of her search.  They locked eyes for only a split second before her instincts took over.  "NOOOOOO" she screamed, as she began running straight at the Officer.  Not knowing who she was, just a crazy woman as far as he knew, the Officer turned to face the immediate threat.  "Stay out of this lady."  He yelled at her.  Clarice slowed down as he faced her, identifying herself,  "I'm Clarice Starling, F.B.I."  

After determining she was unarmed, where the hell would she put anything in that dress, the Officer turned back toward Dr. Lecter, who was still trying to make for the cover of the trees.  As he did, Clarice broke into a run once more, tackling the Officer mid torso just as he fired.  They wrestled for the gun for a moment, then it discharged again.

The next thing Agent Starling knew, she was being pulled off the Officer's body and handcuffed.  She didn't know if his first shot had hit its mark or not.  She hoped for the latter.

Clarice was all but dragged to the patrol car and roughly shoved in the back, head first.

On the way to the police station, while listening to the police radio, Clarice realized that the Officer, with whom she had fought, was in fact, dead.

Agent Starling had been sitting in her cell for close to four hours.  She hadn't said a word to anyone during the whole ordeal.  For all outward appearances she looked to be in shock.  Internally she was waging a great battle with herself.

'Why did I have to cuff him, he would have been gone, end of story.  But I couldn't let him get away.  I wanted to prove them all wrong.  I wanted to show them all.  I wanted to protect the sheep.  Oh God, I wanted to kiss him back.'

She didn't even have time to linger on that last thought when she heard the cell door open.  She looked up to see Clint Pearsall staring down at her.  After a few uncomfortable moments he said, "Why, Starling?  Why?"

"It was an accident."  She said quietly.  "An accident!  Tell me Starling what part of this catastrophe was an accident?  Going to Verger's Estate in direct violation of my orders? Being an accessory to the murder of a Federal Agent?  Aiding and abetting one of the Bureau's most wanted criminals?  Or the death of a rookie Police Officer with one week on the force?  I really want to know Starling.  Which was it?"

All she could hear herself say was "I'm sorry, I didn't mean for any of this to happen."

Pearsall turned away from her, disgusted, calling for the guard to let him out.

He exited the cell and when the guard had closed the gate to her pen, as it were, Pearsall turned to her one last time and said, "You going down hard for this one Starling."

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Here we go again.


	2. Decisions

The usual applies; I own no one or nothing pertaining to this story.

**Chapter 2    Decisions**

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Dr. Lecter sat on his balcony overlooking the Mexican Riviera, still nursing the self-inflicted wound on his left hand.  It was healing nicely, but still extremely sore.  The Doctor had explained that he may or may not regain full use of the thumb.  Only time would tell.  'Small price to pay' he thought.  After all, he still had his freedom and that was more than he could say for his guardian Angel.

Ever since his assisted escape, he had been keeping up with former Special Agent Starling's incarceration.  The media seem to take some kind of morbid pleasure in her downfall.  Although not surprised, he was quite disappointed of her portrayal in the so-called 'legitimate' news coverage.  One reporter from the Post had gone as far as to call her, Lecter's Babe.  He had expected that kind of nonsense from the Tattler.

Perhaps he might have an opportunity to pay Mr. Gorman a visit on his next trip to D.C. But for now, he filed that thought away for another time.

He wondered how his little Staring was holding up under all the pressure.  He knew she had it within herself to deal with such adversity, but they were definitely going after her.

Four counts of murder in the first degree.  The two men from the Verger Estate, 

Agent Krendler and the Rookie Officer.  The Prosecutor announced that due to special circumstances involving the deaths of two law enforcement officers, they would seek the death penalty.

That did not sit well with him, the thought of Clarice being put to death.  

No, he wouldn't think of it.  He decided to await the trial and its conclusion. 

Then and only then would he let himself consider the possibilities. 

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The trial lasted only two weeks.  

Clarice only remembered a small part of it.  What she did remember she would have just as soon forgot.  Her only defense had been that she was too drugged to really know what she was doing, her Attorneys' idea.  She knew this to be a lie and as she looked to the jury, she understood that they knew it as well.

Her Attorney begged her not to testify.  Telling her that she could only do more harm than good.  She ignored him, like she would with anyone when she had her mind made up to do something.  She was determined to tell her side of the story, no matter what the cost.  And it cost her dearly.

Trying to explain to twelve everyday people why she had disobeyed orders, risked her career and life in order to save a cannibalistic madman was proving to be futile.  

Not to mention the witnessing of an F.B.I. Agent having his head cracked open like a coconut and being fed his own gray matter while trying to decide if you wanted wine or not. The hill was just too steep to climb.

The Jury deliberated only five hours before reaching their verdict.

"Members of the Jury, have you reached a verdict."  The Judge asked.

The Foreman stood and replied, "Yes we have your Honor."

"Will the defendant please rise and face the Jury." 

Clarice stood slowly and turned to face the judgement that was about to be rendered.

The Foreman spoke, "We, the people of the District of Columbia find the defendant,

Clarice M. Starling….. Guilty as charged on all counts.

The Judge thanked the Jury for their service and dismissed them.  They would not be needed in the sentencing phase of her trial. The Judge himself would be deciding her fate.

"Sentencing will be held in two weeks.  Court is adjourned." The Judge announced as the gavel struck, which sent a shiver through Clarice, not his words, but the sound of the gavel.  It sounded very similar to a cleaver hitting a chopping block.

The two weeks passed quickly.

Clarice found herself back in court.  She sat patiently awaiting the Judge's decision on her future, or lack there of.

Everyone stood as instructed by the Bailiff, while the Judge made his way into the courtroom from his chambers.

"Please be seated." 

"Ms. Starling, I assure you I have studied your case at great length before reaching my decision.  Between the law and your actions in this matter you have left me little choice.

Do you have anything you wish to say to this court before I pronounce sentence?"

"No your Honor, I do not" she replied.

"Very well, would you rise Ms. Starling.  

It is the judgement of this court that you should be executed by means of lethal injection for the crimes that you have been tried and convicted of in this court of law.  Because of the special circumstances in this case, the date of your execution is set for two weeks from today.  All appeals have been denied.  That's all.  Court is adjourned."

Clarice stood and excepted the judgement without a word.  Her Attorney was trying to say something to her, but it sounded to her like she was under water.  She did catch the words, "fight for an appeal."  She just looked at him and said, "No, don't bother."  

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Thank you all for your reviews, you are to kind.  Looks like one more chapter.

As I said before, my mind works in spurts.  Apparently, short spurts.


	3. So Little Time

Final Chapter.  Sorry it took so long, computer problems.

The usual applies; I own no one or nothing pertaining to this story.

**Chapter 3    So Little Time**

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Clarice had been lying on her bunk, her last few hours spent thinking about everything.

She had thoughts of her Father, her Mother, her horse and of HIM.

She wondered if Dr. Lecter knew or cared about her plight.  Realizing of course he

knew, but did he care?  She believed he did.  All that didn't seem to matter much now.

It was gone.  Everything was gone.  HE was gone.  And soon, she would be gone.

She had found out through one of the guards that they never found Dr. Lecter.  That he had eluded the Officers that night and made a clean getaway.  She was glad that all of this chaos had not been for nothing.

He was free.  As it should be.  Clarice never really understood how she came to feel this way.  She just knew that she did.

When she heard the guard unlock the door, Clarice did not even open her eyes.  She was content to remain on her bunk, still reliving old memories.

"Clarice," the guard said.

"Yeah Mack, what is it?  I should have at least a half hour left." She grumbled.

"No, I mean yes.  You still have time, I'm not here to get you.  The Priest is here."

Still disinterested in what was going on outside of her head, she said calmly, "I don't care to talk with any religious nut at this time.  Thanks anyhow."

"Is that anyway to speak to a man of the cloth, Clarice?"

At the sound of his voice, Clarice jumped off the bunk like it was on fire.

Only to find herself face to face with 

Dr. Hannibal Lecter.

She just stood there, with her mouth hanging open, just staring at him, before finally saying, "It's okay Mack, I'll talk to him."  Once Mack had left the cell, she said, "How?"

"That's not important," he said, "This was the only way I could see you, one last time, Clarice.  I find myself in unfamiliar territory.  I am unable to do anything to release you from your bondage."

She saw the sadness that had crept into his face.  "A Priest?"  She said with a dry smile.

"Talk about a wolf in sheep's clothing.  No pun intended."  They both smiled at that.

"Clarice, I'm…."  She stopped his speech with one finger to his lips.

"It's alright.  I'm all right.  I have had many regrets, but this is not one of them.

Jack Crawford once told me, never forget what you are.  I have never forgotten.

The eloquence, the style, the intelligence, the wit, and the affection.

I have never forgotten and will not.  Not in a thousand years."

Then slowly she leaned into him, removing her finger and replacing it with her lips.

After several moments, she broke the kiss.  Whispering in his ear she said,

"I love you Hannibal Lecter, never forget."

Clarice heard them coming for her.

She placed her hands on either side of his face.  Stroking his cheeks gently with her thumbs.  There was a tear in one of his eyes that she knew he would never shed.

It moved her more deeply than he would ever know.

She kissed him once more.  Releasing his face just as the guard opened her door.

She reached for his left hand, lifting it to her lips.  Kissing the scar there, she said,

"No regrets."

"Lets go Starling.  It's time."

Then she was gone.

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I am strapped to the table now.  They are inserting the I.V.

I feel calm as I start to drift off.  Almost peaceful, as I allow my eyes to close.

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~Timing is everything~

All of the sudden my eyes pop open.  I feel really groggy.  I try and sit up, but can't seem to get any leverage.  When my vision clears, I find myself lying on a bed, in a room I don't recognize.  I faintly hear voices coming from somewhere.

I look down at my attire and am struck with fear.  The dress, I'm wearing the dress.

But how could that be?  Then everything came flooding back to her.

Union Station, the Muskrat Farm, The Dream.

With a clear grasp of her memory, Clarice then laid back, closing her eyes, and the last words that rolled off her tongue, as sleep overtook her was,

"Good-bye Paul."

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I couldn't help myself.  Please forgive me.

You have all been so wonderful with your reviews.  It has given me the courage to continue, for better or worse.

Special thanks to Chameleon, for the continuing encouragement.

And to DianaLecter for inspiring me with your stories.


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